


Colorless

by Plantdad



Series: My Useless YouTuber AUs [1]
Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Dystopian/Utopian AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 16:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plantdad/pseuds/Plantdad
Summary: Creativity is a non-existent concept at this point. Anything considered remotely creative or original will soon be copied and replicated in many different forms until the thought of the originality is nothing but a dying ember. Not to mention, with so many people relying on technology, the ability to control and manipulate entire cities would become easier, and one corporation would take note of this....------------In this world of monochrome gray and blacks, there's a small group of rebels known only as "The Creativists", talented individuals who wish to bring back color and life to a pretty much bland and desolate place. Of course, these ideals are illegal and run the risk of capture and "Re-Education", a fate that no one wishes to go through.And then, there's Ethan...It seems he just dropped into this place, waking up in an alley way with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. Yet, he piqued the interest of both The Creativist and The Corp, both for his odd entry into this world with no memory of any of the events that happened.The only question is who will get through to him first?





	1. A New Challenger Enters The Ring

Phil tilted his head to the side curiously as he watched the figure laying face down on the concrete, raising an eyebrow. He really didn't know if the person was alive, or where he came from, but it definitely wasn't from here. By Corp standards, the clothing that adorned the limp and unconscious being were outlandish-- With a dark blue sweatshirt and stonewashed, faded jeans, he had a shock of azure hair that was beginning to fade into a lovely lavender color, and next to him laid a mint green canvas backpack with what appeared to be the head of a ukulele poking out.

And even if this person _was_ from here, what on earth was he doing in the open dressed like that? He would be targeted for arrest and Re-Education immediately if he was found, and the Brit knew that wouldn't be that hard to spot him, considering he was like a single splash of bright color in a sea of desolate grays and blacks with falsetto lights, a walking neon sign screaming, _"Capture me!"_

Phil crept forward, his breathing shallow as he approached the being slowly. His body was tense, as if he were waiting for this person to spring up and attack him and, honestly, he wouldn't be surprised considering ambushes like this had happened before. Once he was in close proximity, within arms length at least, he extended his foot and poked the person, clearing his throat. "Uh... 'Ello?"

A soft groan fell from the being on the ground, leaving Phil to squeak in surprise and scuttle back as the person turned their head, eyes screwing shut as their mouth pulled into a grimace. Analyzing the being closer, the ebony haired Brit was able to determine they were male, looking to be about twenty or so years old, with acne speckling his face. From the crinkles around his eyes, he could tell the ombre haired male smiled and laughed a lot. He couldn't have been from here then, considering there was nothing to smile about here.

"Are you alright?" Phil would speak again, cautious as he crouched down to settle himself at this male's level, hands resting on his knees with his head again titling to the side, a curious look painted on his face.

"Wha-" The man began to push himself up slowly, wincing as if his muscles ached, turning his head slowly as if taking in his surroundings. He looked so confused, unknowing to the world around him, "What happened? Where am I?" A slow note of panic crept into his somewhat squeaky voice, and the larger male couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He really didn't know where he was, did he?

"You're not serious, are you?" Phil questioned, watching as the other looked towards him with wide aqua eyes, only to scamper back with his shoulders pressing to the dumpster to his left, his knees to his chest.

"Who are you?!" The man declared, reaching out to grab his bag and hug it tightly to his small frame, "Stay back, I-I'm warning you! I-I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be something you won't like!"

Now, Phil was just amused. He stood with his hands resting on his hips, a playful smirk on his lips, "I'm not going to hurt you!" He promised, chuckling to himself, "Lively, aren't we?" The ebony held out a hand, which was bandaged and covered in fading spots of orange and purples, much like smears of paint beginning to seep into his skin, offering to help the stranger up.

The other was clearly skeptical, his own hand a bit shaky as he slowly reached out for Phil's, but, he soon took it and allowed the taller man to pull him up, gripping his arm tightly after releasing his hand, "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Phillip! Phillip Lester. Pleased to meet you," The Brit grinned and watched as a small, sheepish smile spread across the ombre-haired male's lips, "And you might be?"

"Uh, E-Ethan. Ethan Nestor. Where are we?"

Phil raked his fingers through his hair, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was a bit odd that this man had no idea where he was. What did he do, just fall out of the sky? "Well, in short, you're in a place known as Citytropolis, or 'The Order', as a lot of people are more fond of calling it, Mission District 24. Where did you come from?"

Ethan looked around again, simply trying to comprehend his surroundings. This place was so strange, drowning in the scents of wet concrete and burning rubber from car tires, false white light accenting decimating shadows that swarmed around them. The skies above seemed to be blanketed in permanent fluffy gray clouds that smothered out any form of sunlight or warmth.

The rain felt almost acidic on the smaller male's face, dampening his skin and beading along the lenses of his glasses, which were a bit crooked and cracked. "I-I... Don't know. I was just walking home, and suddenly I'm waking up here. I've never seen this place in my entire life."

Now it was time for Phil to be skeptical. This guy had _never_ seen this place in his entire life? _How?_ "Excuse my doubt, but, I don't see how that's possible."

Ethan chewed his lip, beginning to dig into the bag still in his hand as if he were looking for something. Peaking in, Phil could see cans of spray paint, small sketchbooks and a pencil bag, as well as one ukulele. The object Ethan would retrieve after a moment looked much like the cell phone in his pocket, but a much older model.

Attempting to turn the device on, the ombre-haired male huffed in frustration, shaking his head, "Damn. Battery's dead." He sighed, shoving the device back into his bag, tossing the leather straps over his shoulders, looking up at the Brit, "I'm sorry, but I really don't know where I am. I've never seen anything like this place before..."

Phil hummed in acknowledgement, finding this whole scenario to grow odder and odder each passing second. "It's okay. What do you feel about this place?"

How did he feel? Ethan frowned, biting his lip and gripping the straps to his bag. Why on earth would this guy ask this kind of question? "Uh, It's bland. Kinda depressing, honestly."

Phil seemed to brighten at this comment, a smile stretching over his features, "Really? Y'think that?"

"Well, yeah. It's so boring here," The smaller man shrugged, hands shoving into his sweatshirt pockets, "Kinda like one of those old monochrome black and white photographs you get at those photo places where you dress up in those weird old costumes."

Phil blinked, confused by what Ethan was saying. He'd never heard of anything like that before, but they sounded fun, "Well, if that's the case, you'll need to come with me~"

"Come with you?" Ethan asked, an edge of nervousness creeping into his voice. It honestly sounded like a principal or teacher was getting ready to scold a misbehaving child, and honestly, that's what this felt like. He didn't really like that feeling too much if he was being honest, "Wh-Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere you'll be safe here," The larger male assured, peeling off the large black overcoat he was wearing, handing it to Ethan and revealing that under it he wore a gray dress shirt and black dress slacks, uniform-like attire that the Brit honestly hated, "Here, cover yourself up with this. We don't need you getting arrested."

_Arrested?!_ Ethan swallowed heavily, taking the coat from the other. Why would he be arrested? "W-What?"

"Look, I'll explain later. You might want to hide your bag and cover your head, by the way. It might be dangerous to walk around with bright purple hair." And with that, Phil was pulling Ethan to the entrance of the alley way by his wrist, watching as the smaller male pulled on the jacket he'd been provided, trying to pull it over his head to hide his hair and stuffing his bag under the jacket.

Looking around, their surroundings didn't seem to change or shift, forever bland and dull. The buildings were perfectly built, almost like cookie-cutter designs had been stamped out and lined up along the well-kept street block. Phil, unlike Ethan who stared at his surroundings with his mouth slightly agape, kept his head down, hugging himself tightly to combat the chill and damp air, their breath creating clouds of condensation that fluttered up towards street lamps that lit the way, even in the middle of the day. Or at least, Ethan assumed it was day.

With flashing billboards holocasted in false dull light, the time blinked, telling the American that it was about three in the afternoon. Other advertisements that broadcasted included all kinds of beauty products that promised a perfect complexion, phones and tablets unlike any Ethan had seen made purely from one thin slice of glass, and pills that advertised the "perfect body", which made the ombre-haired male wince once he saw this place's twisted idea of "perfect" as models who looked like they were about ready to pass out from starvation spoke in scripted and forced tones, their eyes sunken and hollow.

This place was a twisted reality, unlike his own.

It felt like ages before he and Phil stopped walking, the city beginning to turn into a more desolate and abandoned looking area, the larger male glancing over his shoulder every few minutes or so to see if Ethan was still there, and much to his relief, the other seemed to keep up rather nicely.

"We're almost to the Tram station," Phil promised, noting the slight pull of exhaustion that accented Ethan's features. Of course the kid was tired; He woke up in a strange new, colorless alternate reality --At least new to his standards, as clearly wasn't the case for Phil-- with aching muscles and a throbbing headache. He just wanted to lay down and attempt to process everything.

It was another few moments later before they were approaching a small building that looked much like an airport hanger, and by this time, Ethan was ready to pass out.

"Here we are!" The Brit chirped after they had entered the empty building, an arm sweeping outward as if presenting the area they now stood in, "This is what we call an ambushed Tram station."

"Ambushed? Why?" Ethan was so puzzled by everything happening around him, trying to voice his confusion and get answers.

"Well, you see, here's the thing-- There are three Factions The Creativists have control over. Trams are the fastest way to travel between each. Before, when we would use public Trams that others used, we ran the risk of getting ambushed and arrested. So, to cut down the risk, with the help of the faction in Galacia, we managed to take down this one little Tram station and now use it with all risks eliminated."

As Phil spoke, Ethan attempted to wrap his head around what the larger Brit was saying, yet unable to do so. "Wait," He started, "Back up; Who or what are The Creativists? What are Factions? Can you pinch me so I can test to see if maybe I'm asleep and this is all some fucked up dream?"

The noir haired man laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not going to pinch you. I just met you. Look, just wait until we start traveling and I'll tell you everything," He approached what looked to be a podium, which gave off a soft blue glow, soft light shining against Phil's face. Ethan soon realized however, after Phil had locked in their coordinates with a couple pokes to the screen embedded into the wood, they were basically applying for an Uber... If that Uber just happened to be a twenty-four to twenty-eight ton Tram that would soon come to a screeching halt at what appeared to be an old platform.

"Uh, whoever is driving that thing," The smaller male looked up towards Phil, his eyebrows crinkled, "They're... A good driver, yeah? Like, we're not going to derail and be thrown to our deaths, right?"

"Eh, more or less," Was the only response Ethan would receive for comfort as he was pulled a bit roughly into a rusted box car, Phil grinning as the Tram began to pull away from the platform. The American stumbled at the sudden movement, catching himself on the metal wall while Phil stretched, ruffling his hair and sighing, "Guess it's story time, huh?"

"Please," Ethan stated, sliding into a sitting position with his back against the wall behind him, looking up at Phil as he snuggled into the Brit's jacket, trying to keep warm from the air that rushed into the car as the city skirted by them, the soft clanging of the Tram's metal wheels on the tracks filling the air rhythmically. Phil sat down next to the newcomer, his arms draped over his knees as he rested his head back.

"Alright, have you ever heard of the 'Corporate Take-Over of 2020?'"

Ethan frowned, shaking his head. While he might not have remembered a lot from high school, he had never heard of such a thing, in any place in the world, ever. "Erm, no... Can't say I have."

Phil found this odd. How could no one have heard of one of the most devastating and influential events in the world? It was like this guy _was_ from a completely different world.

"Well," He started, his tone full of skepticism, "Basically, the G-Corp, or the Google Corporation, created a fleet of robots. These robots, considering that phones and other forms of technology were linked to so many Google accounts, were easy to overpower and take over. Google had access to everyone's personal information, and thus, they were easy to control and manipulate. Not only that, but all forms of creative media were decimated, such as YouTube, Spotify and the like. Anywhere that someone could upload art, entertainment, music, etc. was destroyed. Creativity and free thinking was outlawed, and now everyone is required to dress the same, act the same and pretty much talk the same."

"That's... Horrible," Ethan muttered, looking over at Phil while the Brit stared at the opposite wall across from them. Yet, he couldn't say he understood what Phil was saying. Last he remembered, his world was full of color. YouTube was still up and running, and one of the largest video sharing platforms of any on the Internet. Of course, the staff and guidelines were beginning to slowly deteriorate the charm of the website, but it wasn't banned. Spotify still existed too, as well as all other forms of social media that Phil was attempting to say was outlawed. "I just don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" The ebony asked curiously as he looked down at his new ombre-haired companion, eyebrow raised.

And thus, Ethan explained the conditions of the world from his memories, how he didn't remember such a thing happening where he had lived before. Phil began to fidget with the button on his dress shirt, frowning to himself as Ethan spoke. 

"It sounds like you came from a completely different world at this point," The Brit observed, scratching the back of his neck, "Yet, that doesn't make any sense... That can't be possible, right?"

"I... Wouldn't think so..." Ethan shrugged, "I don't really know anymore."

"Well, look, we'll get it sorted out once we get to the Faction. Don't worry," The Brit offered a warm and inviting smile before turning to gaze out the open door of the Tram boxcar, buildings and such buffeting past them. The scenery was a smudge at this point, a monochromatic smear of grays and blacks.

And yet, even as Phil said this, Ethan found his head swimming with thousands of questions, and unbeknown to him, this day would only begin to get weirder.


	2. Raindrops and Fog

Ethan would wake from the brief slumber he'd been pulled into when the Tram he was in jerked to a screeching halt, the sound making the smaller male wince as his head seemed to be even worse then it had been before he'd fallen asleep, the pounding headache thundering against the bone cage of his skull. Phil was beginning to stand next to him, stretching and glancing down at the other with a small smile. "Sleep well?"

"More or less," Ethan mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, "Where are we?"

"About five minutes away from the Faction," The ebony held his hand out, pulling the other to his feet, "Up you go."

"More walking?" The ombre-haired male whined, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"You woke up in an alley way, from what I can gather," Phil shrugged, waving Ethan along as he hopped out of the Tram car, "Come on. The faster we get moving, the faster we'll get there and the faster we can get you patched up and laying down."

And with that, the two were off, clambering in silence as rain began to fall much harder then before, soaking their clothing and chilling the two men to the bone. Ethan's teeth chattered while he hugged himself, the jacket Phil had given him offering no form of warmth what-so-ever while Phil was much in the same boat, his shoulders shaking as his nose began to turn pink, his fingers and toes growing numb. 

"One of the things I hate about living here," The Brit grumbled, "is how cold it is."

"Maine isn't much better," Ethan muttered with a shrug, "It's usually winter year round."

It felt like ages before Phil was leading him up the pathway towards a large and beautiful house adorned with three stories of beautiful tan and dark brown stones, windows glowing brightly with inviting orange light that sliced through the slits of rain that pattered down around them. Balconies of the third floor were made of black iron, twisted into ornate patterns to make rails. The front of the house was well kept with beautiful flowers and trimmed hedges, proof that whoever grew the plants put wonderful love and care into them.

"Here we are, home sweet home," Phil stated with a small smile, gesturing with an outstretched hand towards the building. Ethan sniffled and nodded, the cold biting.

"Fantastic... C-Can we go inside now?" Phil laughed, nodding as he grabbed the smaller male's wrist and led him towards the warm and inviting home.

Opening the door, Ethan would be greeted with someone yelling in Swedish, as well as the soft smell of vanilla and cinnamon that filled the air. Phil took the jacket from Ethan, hanging up the dripping article of clothing on a wall hook near them. "Alright, I'm gonna go tell the others about you and try to get you some fresh clothes. Just follow me."

Ethan nodded, rubbing his arms as he followed after the Brit. The inside of the home was just as beautiful and enticing as the outside, decorated with a mess of paintings and other art, as well as small potted plants and succulents that sat in large open windows. Couches and chairs looked so comfortable, and Ethan was sure that if he sat down on one of them, there was no way in hell that he was getting up.

"Guys," Phil called out, stepping into one of the larger rooms of the house filled with televisions and computers, "We've got another one!"

Everyone in the room fell silent, looking towards the two newcomers, though it felt like they were sizing Ethan up, intimidating him horribly. The first to stand was a brunette man with bright blue eyes, grinning, "Well, he looks interesting." The man held a sweet Irish accent, one that heavily accented his words and added to his bubbly personality.

"Surprise he'd not dead yet," Another British voice would mumble, and Ethan followed the direction of the somewhat cynical voice to find a brunette with a dead look of exhaustion pulling at his features. 

The blonde man setting at the head of the table raised an eyebrow, standing as well before approaching the two, eyes narrowed, "Who might you be?"

"Uh... E-Ethan, sir," The smaller male stammered out, fidgeting with his sleeves, leaving the man to raise an eyebrow, his eyes glancing over the boy's attire.

"You really must have a death wish if you're going out in public dressed like _that_ ," He retorted before shaking his head, "And don't call me 'sir'. I'm Felix. Welcome to Faction One, one of the only safe havens in this literal hell on earth."

After brief introductions, Ethan had been invited into the somewhat large group of people who referred to themselves as The Creativists, much like Phil had done earlier. After getting him cleaned up and into a new change of clothes, a sweet girl who had introduced herself as Signe handed him a warm bowl of soup and a piece of soft buttered bread. Ethan couldn't remember the last time he'd ate and practically inhaled the food while the others watched him.

"So, how did you even get here?" The brunette Brit who'd introduced himself as Dan would ask, arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow. Phil sat next to him, knees to his chest as he waited for Ethan to speak.

"I," The ombre-haired male swallowed the mouthful of soup and bread he'd been eating, clearing his throat as he held the warm bowl in attempts to warm his hands, "Don't really know. I just woke up in a strange alley way and Phil was there."

"What do you remember last?" Another female known as Marzia would chirp, titling her head to the side.

"Not much..." Ethan would answer sheepishly, "Uh, mostly just walking home. I was going to the art store and--"

"An art store?" Signe would perk up, her eyes glimmering brightly as she shared a look with a man named Robin, this look so incomprehensively overjoyed, "I haven't been to one of those in years!"

"Well, yeah, they're everywhere in Maine," Ethan shrugged, "But, I just woke up here. I don't know how or why, but... I remember a mirror--"

"A mirror?" Felix cut him off with a roll of his eyes, "Well, that's an important detail."

Ethan shrunk in his seat, scrunching his shoulders up to his ears, "I'm just telling you the last things I remember."

"Yeah, shut it, ya meatball lovin' Swede!" The Irishman known as Sean would snort, shaking his head, "He's tryin' to give us answers and he can't if ya keep interrupting him."

"Are you talking to me, lucky charms?" The blond retorted.

"Ladies, ladies, you're both pretty," Signe rolled her eyes, giggling as both men scoffed like children before turning her gaze towards Ethan again, "Continue, please."

"Well, that's really it," The ombre-haired male muttered, sighing as Robin would take the now empty bowl from him, "That's all I can remember."

"That's not really much to go on," Dan grumbled, fingers raking through his hair, "Besides, why should we trust him? This story just seems too fishy and I wouldn't be surprised if they hired this innocent looking kid to try and fool us."

"H-Hey, I'm not a kid!" Ethan argued, his cheeks turning bright pink, "I'm twenty-one!"

"We... Don't really have anywhere to put him either, even if we trusted him," Phil pointed out, "All of our rooms are full."

Felix frowned, combing his fingers through his beard. That was a fair point; they didn't really even know if they could trust him, on top of the fact resources were already thin. They were expecting a supply shipment soon, but that wouldn't be for another three days from the Galacia Faction.

"Okay, how about this," Felix sighed, scratching the back of his neck, "There's two other Factions much smaller then ours, with enough space and resources to accommodate you. Either myself or Phil can take you to them tomorrow so you can meet the other members of the Factions. If either party wants you is up to them. Push comes to shove, no one wants you and you can either get captured by the Corp, or you can create a Faction of your own."

The way Felix spoke made Ethan's stomach twist into knots. The Swede was ultimately so dismissive about him not being accepted and left to fend for himself, and the smaller male wasn't going to lie-- It hurt a bit, even if he didn't know this man personally.

"Felix," Marzia chided, glaring up at what Ethan was to assume was her boyfriend, shaking her head, "If he doesn't get accepted into either of the Factions, we can just make room here. You never know, we need all the help we can get."

"What do you do artistically?" Robin would suddenly ask, breaking his odd silence to inquire this.

"Oh, uh, I do a lot of things, actually," Ethan scratched the back of his neck, looking off to the side, "I do a bit of sketching and drawing, a little bit of painting, too. Oh, and I can play ukulele and sing kinda."

"Can we hear ya play somethin'?" Sean asked curiously, his bright smile never seeming to fade.

"I mean... I-I guess so," The smaller male stammered out nervously, reaching for the bag that had been glued to his side since he'd arrived in this odd place, reaching into it to retrieve the instrument, strumming nervously as he thought of something off the top of his head to play. He settled for the first song he could think of, clearing his throat and beginning to play.

_"Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face. People have told me I don't look the same. Maybe I lost weight, I'm playing hooky with the best of the best, put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too. I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall. The lace in your dress tingles my neck, how do I live? The death of a bachelor, oh oh oh, letting the water fall. The death of a bachelor, oh oh oh, seems so fitting for happily ever after, how could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter at the expense of the death of a bachelor..."_

He gave the strings one final strum after playing, his face glowing brightly as everyone stared at him. He was used to recording things like this over a camera, with a screen to separate himself and his viewers, but with all eyes on him, it made him somewhat flustered.

After a few beats of what Ethan considered uncomfortable silence, a soft clap started up from Signe, which would lead to a supportive amount of applause from the rest of the group around him.

"That was beautiful~" Marzia would state, making Ethan laugh nervously, gripping the small chestnut colored instrument to his chest.

"Th-Thank you..."

"Can we see what you've drawn?" Signe asked curiously, beginning to approach the male while pointing at his bag. Ethan looked towards the mint green canvas, again plunging his hand into it while cans clanged together, retrieving his sketchbook from the bottom of the bag. He held it out towards her, letting her take the book and begin to flip through it. The sketches in the book were random things-- Sketch practices, doodles of animals, head and bust shots of varying styles, half-finished human drawings, etc.

Everyone found this newcomer so intriguing, not only for the fact that he seemed to be from a completely different world, but because he was so talented, presenting them with many of the aspects they looked for in future Creativists.

"He's a keeper, I'd say," Sean stated, peeking over his girlfriend's shoulder as she reviewed the drawings, nodding herself.

"I agree! He shows a lot of potential."

Felix even hummed in agreement, ruffling his hair. "Okay, we'll go with the original plan. Get some rest, then introduce him to the other two Factions. They might be interested in scooping up his talent."

After a place was set up for the smaller male on the couch, it was lights out, and Ethan couldn't have been happier as he laid down, practically sinking into the plush material of the sofa. The blankets encasing him were warm, and it didn't take long before his eyes were fluttering shut and he was out cold, his breathing soft.

Meanwhile, back in the city, a man stood at a computer while other monitors glowed around him, growling softly as he reviewed camera footage from that day. There were cameras spread out throughout most of the city, security upgraded after The Creativists started becoming more of a threat towards him and his company's placement in the world, mainly in small areas where it would be easier for people to meet undetected like alley ways and dark crevices where the falsetto lights of billboards and street lamps couldn't find them.

And now, watching and re-watching footage, the shadowy man was displeased to watch as a man stumbled out of a mirror abandoned near a dumpster and collapse to his knees against frigid concrete before passing out. Watching the footage on repeat only continued to enrage him, his fists clinched behind his back as he snarled lowly, cold obsidian eyes narrowed.

Those maggots would have another member in this man, he could already see. He was colorful, and he was sure his personality matched his vibrant attire, and he knew neither of those would be a good combination. Vibrant souls were more likely to rebel, he'd found, and he didn't need anymore of those pest Creativists to deal with.

And then, something dawned on him. A wicked idea that left him smirking menacingly, a low rumble of a dark laugh vibrating in his throat. If this man fell from a mirror, that meant he had to have a place of origin, no matter where that may be, and, if he could get to this man, then maybe he could use this ability to spread to other worlds, continuing the corporate take-over that would bring millions to their knees at his mercy while also manipulating him to join the corporate side of the spectrum.

Oh, what a _wonderful_ idea this was....


End file.
